


'Til My Shadow Turns To Sunrays

by Gothams_Only_Wolf



Series: Lucky Coyote [8]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chronicles of Narnia Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Light Angst, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Second Battle of Beruna, Stacker and Luna are Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf
Summary: A Softer World 727: "I'm tired of being a dinosaur; let's be meteors."





	1. From Thief to High King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoryKurago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryKurago/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A Softer World 727: "I'm tired of being a dinosaur; let's be meteors." Hot Dads, Pentecost-Sevier-Mori family unit, Maleigh, Chakoleigh, Mako/Weis
> 
> I couldn't resist after I saw that you liked Narnia! I had a lot of fun with this, especially since I wanted it to sound sorta like the series but with a narrative twist. 
> 
> Enjoy~ 
> 
> The fic's theme song is On & On by Cartoon

* * *

The thing about apples, even those made of wood of the self-same tree, is that they carry some magic about them. 

The one carved from a tree that got toppled in London remains in the Pentecost family long enough to be passed down to Obidiah Pentecost, who leaves it to gather dust in the family attic. 

Viviane Pentecost née Plummer discovers the gleaming apple made of wood of the self-same tree collecting dust, thinks of her Grandmother and sells the apple to a museum after getting its full history from her husband.

* * *

**Remember the apple; it's important.**

* * *

**-Tottenham, London Suburb, United Kingdom, November 22, 2001-**

Stacker Pentecost is sixteen when he steals his very first item. 

It is also his last. 

It's an old ring, it's posted for nearly £200 in the pawn shop down the road and it's in Stacker's jacket before he even thinks about consequences. He runs home, his hand shaking as he pulls it out of his jacket pocket. 

"What's that, Stacks?" Tamsin asks and Stacker jumps nearly a meter in response to her chipper tone. 

"You're gonna give me a bloody heart attack," he grumbles as he shows her the dirty yellow ring. "Think we can pawn this to get a little something for Mum's birthday this year?" 

"Maybe. Did you steal this from that dodgy old fart down the road?" Tamsin questions as she rubs it on her knitted brown vest to clear some of the dirt. It's bright yellow underneath the grime and it makes Stacker hopeful. 

"Yeah. He never pays attention anyway."

* * *

**Remember the ring; it's important.**

* * *

Someone has been paying attention to _him_ , though, which is how he's cornered in an alley by two blokes nearly his height. 

"You stole from one of our protections." says the first and all Stacker can think is—Fuck, fuck, **_fuck_** , he hopes his Mum doesn't have to bury two men instead of just one. 

"Almost didn't notice, except the old bastard keeps a log of everything 'e sells on paper like it's still the old days. He said you were in his store but after you left, he couldn't find that ugly thing. Cough it up." growls the second. 

Stacker straightens to his full height, juts out his chin and what rolls off his tongue is part-truth, part-lie. "Why would I steal from him, mate? I'm in military school." 

"'Cause I saw you do it, you sneaky shit." Says the taller of the two, though his expression doesn't read as a threat. "I almost didn't, except it gleamed last fucking second." 

"Right," Stacker shrugs, turns his pockets inside out to show how empty they are, even of lint. "I've got fuck all in my pockets." 

The two men glance at one another and the way thier shoulders move makes him duck before they're even halfway through it. He darts between them and tucks his pockets in before he hits his stride and sprints down the alley, dodging two more men before running smack into someone in a crimson suit. 

"Avoiding my bruisers is... questionable. Avoiding my guards is impressive." comes the amused response to his muffled yelp of surprise. "Touching me? That should be impossible."

* * *

**Remember this; under _no_ circumstances are the apple or the ring to be united.**

* * *

There's an apple in the area Stacker's been escorted into in order to wait. He glances at it briefly as he's seen into the crimson suit's office. 

"I am Tang Wei Liu and I find myself in need of assistance. I don't care what it is that caught their attention initially," Mr. Tang Wei says dismissively. The bruisers look offended until Wei raises a black brow. "It is a rare individual that notices that ring and even rarer that they notice the apple." 

Stacker motioned back at the gleaming apple. "That?" 

"It is protected by sutras. _Absolutely no one should be seeing it_." 

Oh. It's not something he can help—

"I need you to retrieve my nephews." 

"Huh?" Stacker blurts, completely lost. 

"Adults are normally kicked back from where they have landed. You are under the age one would be considered an adult internationally. You may choose a companion of equal age to take with you but choose wisely. You have 3 hours. You will be paid for your troubles in retrieving my nephews. You will be briefed when you return." Mr. Tang Wei continues lightly. 

"Can I say no?" He asks and the arched brow raises again. 

"Consider this payment for the theft of my property, Mr. Pentecost." The smile makes chills roll down Stacker's spine.

* * *

**Remember this; Narnia knows her Founders by blood.**

* * *

Stacker climbs up to Tamsin's window and immediately regrets it. 

"Tams, I need— **AUGH!** My poor eyes! I need bleach for my brain cells!" He complains as he closes his eyes and tumbles through the sill. 

"Ahh!!" Tamsin yelps and then Luna hisses out threats from under the covers. "Stacks, this _better_ be good." 

"Umm, I might've fucked up taking that ring." 

"Shit. Who'd you piss off this time, Stacks?" Luna prods, curls disheveled as she pokes her face out. His twin, older by seven minutes (and never fucking lets it go), is tired but determined to help. 

"Triad? I think. He's Chinese, has bruisers and bodyguards and security out the kazoo. He has a job for me and he said to pick one person to take with me." Stacker blurts it all out. 

"A job?" Tamsin raises a red brow and then huffs. "Figures, they want to see if you're up to snuff." 

"I was kinda hoping one of you might...?" Stacker pauses. 

"We're _all_ going and if that Triad has anything to say about it—" Luna mimics boxing as Stacker sighs in relief.

* * *

**Set in three but for one more; for in Cair Paravel, lies throne of _four._**

* * *

Luna marches up to the door, all of her nearly two meters vibrating with protective wrath. The guards recognizes him and lets him through but takes in his sister and his best friend with a doubtful look. 

"We're both going." Luna says in a tone that brooks no argument even on her best days. 

"Mr. Tang-Wei said only one." 

"No, he said a companion of equal age. He didn't say whether or not I could take more than one," Stacker counters and then Mr. Tang-Wei is there. 

"He's got us there, Feng." Mr. Tang-Wei offers wryly as his fingers fold over the cane with a blood red stone at the top of it. "I did not, in fact, name a _limit_ to his companion. I wonder how that cleverness will serve you there." 

Feng pulls down the sutras, opens the glass case and touches the apple with a set of metal tongs and a pair of thick gloves. She drops it into Stacker's open palm.

* * *

_Though in Cair Paravel sits four of throne, one is reserved for blooded warrior alone._

* * *

**-Lowlands near Lantern Waste, Narnia, December 19, 1045-**

Sargeant Hansen, better known as Herc, stumbles from red sand and a training exercise to a snow-covered field that looks like it doesn't belong anywhere near the great Aussie outback. 

He squints at the sun, calculates his position in relation to it and curses under his breath. It's not like anywhere he's been and he's been to a lot of places. The compass he's got is going absolutely bonkers. 

Great Grandpa Diggy, the slim blue volume that speaks of great yet terrible adventures and a Great Lion rears up suddenly in his mind. 

"Narnia," he breathes out, eyes wide, "I'm in Narnia..." 

"A Son of Adam knows the land he stands on. Oh Aslan, what a miraculous day this is turning out to be!" The _talking European badger_ that pops up in front of Herc about gives him a heart attack. 

He doesn't have his M-4 but his field knife will do in a pinch. Herc pulls the blade and holds his defensive position as the badger circles him, turning widdershins to avoid exposing his back. 

His breath comes out like dragon fire, like it's a defense all on it's own. 

"Peace, Son of Adam. None will attack you here." comes the reassurance. 

Herc runs what he remembers of Narnia through his mind and nods as he sheathes the blade. "'M name's Herc, Herc Hansen." 

"Mushroom, Badger of The Lowlands. Terribly sorry but would that be a short name?" Mushroom asks. 

"I was born Hercules but I, umm, respond better to Herc." 

"Where are you from in Wardrobe?" 

Wardrobe? Oh, **right**. The world that wasn't Narnia; the place he needs to get back to soon enough. 

"Port Macquarie, Australia but I've moved a lot." 

"I see. I don't suppose you've come across our High Kings and Queens?" 

"... My Great Grandfather Diggy mentioned them but he's been gone some fifty odd years in Wardrobe." Herc admits freely as Mushroom leads him to a burbling stream and motions that he can fill his canteen. He does, blinking in surprise as the water erupts with tiny faeries and sprites. "Oh!" 

"You're new so they can show themselves off. Get out of that container, will you?" Mushroom directs the last question to the inside of his canteen. A wash of water pours out and somehow _sulks_ as he fills it to the brim and drinks it dry three times before capping the fourth. "My, my you were thirsty." 

"I came from a desert." 

"Aye, you wear strange armor and your steps leave red dust." A fox notes as she sniffs at his bootprints. "I am Rialys." 

"I'm... not like the others before me. I'm a soldier." Herc murmurs as he leans against a tree and then yelps as the tree curls open to reveal a-a—Oh bugger, he's so far out of his comfort zone that it's packed up and _left him_ at this rate.

* * *

_A Quest of four needs must, to find one who is Just._

* * *

Herc's surrounded by a semi-circle of centaurs, fauns and dryads when the very air seems to warp and it dumps not one, not two but _**three**_ teenagers into the snow-dusted field. 

The first falls into a stance that wouldn't look out of place in a Combatives class; fists raised and feet braced, jaw firm even as it's tucked. She's followed by a second girl who mimics her pose and the third...

Well, the third is wearing a glowing yellow ring and holding a silver apple that has all of the Narnians gasping. 

Herc knows what that apple is because Grandpa Diggy mentions a silver apple given to him by Aslan to heal his mother. The man admits to planting the seed of the core but the fate of the tree has been a Kirke/Hansen mystery for decades. 

The moment is shattered by the teen dropping the apple with a yelp. It bounces and Herc scoops it up and tucks it away out of sheer habit. 

"That was wood a second ago, Moony! It was solid wood, not _an actual apple_ —!" The last teen braces himself at the backs of the two girls, his stance looser than the girls but no less deadly if used with applied force. 

All three are covered in snow and shivering slightly. 

Brown locks with hazel as Herc raises both of his empty hands in an international symbol of surrender and peace. 

"A person?" 

"Th' name's Herc," he repeats, this time to the three of them. "D'you know where you landed?" 

"Not..." 

"Padfoot, not another word." Moony says and it clicks with the accent. They're using nicknames and they're British though and through. 

"Padfoot, you're in Narnia." Herc says and all three of them whip around to face him at that. 

"Like Nanna Polly's diary?!" Two of the three demand. 

Polly, Polly, why is it ringing—"You mean Polly Plummer? Digory Kirke's friend?" 

"Yeah, how do you know that?" The redhead questions. 

"I'm a Kirke, sorta. Grandpa Diggy left a journal." Herc answers even as he spots the Narnians drawing closer. 

"By Aslan's mane, you mean to say that you are related to our Founders?!" Mushroom asks with mounting incredulity. 

"Moony and Padfoot are, not me. I, err, don't suppose you've seen three little humans, about yea high? We really need to find them and take them home." The redhead motions to around mid-thigh on her. 

"Last I heard, there were little not-fauns near the Stone Table. I could ask the trees to check for you, Daughter of Eve." One of the fauns spoke up, the cheeky red scarf at his neck tickling at the back of his mind. "Mr. Tumnus at your service."

* * *

_A Quest of four needs be sent, to find one who is Magnificent._

* * *

Traveling in a group, rather than a squad throws Herc enough that he's back to flexing his right hand. 

Moony turns out to be Luna and the nickname suits her well. She's sharp-witted, protective of her brother Padfoot, who is actually Stacker. The redhead is Tamsin and she's Stacker's best friend and Luna's girlfriend. 

When she says that last bit, she's tense and her eyes burn with green fire as she stares him down. 

Herc shrugs, thinks of an old friend and says, "Relationships are relationships, no matter who's in 'em. So long as you two love each other I see no difference." 

Tamsin relaxes at that and fist bumps him. "You know, for someone in the RAAF, you're not bad." 

"Same could be said for you, Brit." He teases lightly. She laughs and the sound's bright enough to draw the attention of the Pentecost twins. 

Stacker falls back as Tamsin strides forward to take Luna's hand. The ring's no longer glowing but they've found it has a matching green band on Herc's left hand. The ring had originally been placed on Herc's dogtags by his Mum. Grandpa Diggy's journal says that the green one will return them to their proper places once they're done. 

The triplets are apparently nephews to a Triad member and therefore need to be found soon. 

Narnia isn't a place for three-year-olds, after all.

* * *

_A Quest of four needs be bourne, to find one who is of Horn._

* * *

They're armed at the wandering Narnia camp, Herc and Stacker with longswords bearing lion-headed handles, Luna with twin daggers that also have lion-headed handles and Tamsin with a bow plus a quiver full of red-fletched arrows. They're also given warm winter clothes that allow for freedom of movement. 

Stacker is the one to question the uncomfortable subservience and addresses it head on. "Why are you treating us like royalty? What qualifications do we have?" 

Mr. Tumnus clears his throat at that. "Narnia has a long history of being ruled by Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. King Frank and his Line, the Line of Pevensie... Aslan says that Narnia is meant to be ruled." 

"Why are you treating us equally?" Luna adds as her fingertips graze against Tamsin's out of what seems to habit. 

"Cair Paravel has four thrones," Mr. Tumnus admits. "They've been empty some thirty years. We Narnians believe that Aslan sent you to help us." 

"Why only humans?" Herc manages after a few moments. 

"That is reasoning we leave to Aslan." comes the quiet response. 

"Fair enough." Tamsin mutters as she curls her hand around a warm mug of tea. "Will we meet him?" 

"I suppose so," Mushroom and a Beaver approach, the Beaver's fur silvered heavily in places. "Mrs. Beaver at your service, pleased to meet you." 

"Likewise, Mrs. Beaver." He answers. "I take it you might have the answer to our question?" 

"You're a smart one, Herc. As far as the Beavers know, each successive monarch set has met Aslan at least once whilst in Narnia."

* * *

_A Quest of four needs be gallant, to find one who is Valiant._

* * *

Stacker shares a tent with Luna, Tams and Herc. 

Herc's a soldier, part of the RAAF, and doesn't mind Luna and Tamsin's relationship. 

"Umm, Herc?" Stacker works up the courage to talk to the other man, the quiet of the tent feeling like a sleepover with Tamsin. 

"Yeah?" The sleep-heavy voice is rough but still welcoming. 

"After this is done, wanna trade emails?" Stacker knows that even though they met only a few hours ago, Herc is friend material, if under somewhat unusual circumstances. 

Herc is quiet for a moment and the bed roll shuffles as Herc turns to face him. 

"Alright, I c'n do that."

* * *

**Monarch chosen from above, soon to be star-crossed love.**

* * *

Herc is a fountain of Narnian knowledge and supplies stories from Kirke's journal when Mushroom, Mrs. Beaver or Rialys can't or don't know the answer. Time works differently here; years in Narnia happen in the blink of an eye in London. The eldest of the Pevensie line (Peter) had been nearly twenty-nine by the time they'd stumbled back onto the Lantern Waste. 

Stacker finds himself drawn in by Herc's earnesty. He's five years older than all three of them but the space closes like it was never there the longer he talks. Luna and Tamsin take to walking ahead of him and Herc, Tamsin with a fond smile she directs their way. 

The first time their fingers brush, Herc turns bright red and continues his story, albeit a little louder than before. 

The second time their fingers brush, Herc looks away but allows the contact, his gloved fingers curling and uncurling after the fact during base camp set up. 

The third time it happens, it's the night before the Stone Table that Mr. Tumnus talks about with such awe. 

Stacker's telling his own story this time; the epic snowfort battle of Tottenham in '95. His arms spread wide and his hand brushes against Herc's own, reaching as it is for the whetstone. 

Herc smiles briefly, transfers the whetstone to the other side and just laces their fingers. It's not quite friendship, not quite love but somehow, it works.

* * *

**Remember this; once visited, Narnia can become a safe haven.**

* * *

Stacker spots the three boys, all identical, all of them screaming as hobgoblins, hags and a minotaur dance around them. 

He roars out a wordless challenge, draws his sword from its sheath with a sharp _-shing!-_ that rings out in the quiet. 

The Minotaur answers his call with a bellow of its own and swings forward the great axe strapped to its back. 

The blow shakes his arms and nearly numbs them but Stacker has a mission. 

He lifts the longsword and plunges it straight up, yelling at the kids, "Close your eyes!" 

Blood fountains from where his sword struck the minotaur's heart. Stacker wipes at his face and attacks the goblin heading for the triplets. 

He finds himself back to back with Herc as Luna fights like a whirlwind with her daggers. Tamsin's scarily accurate arrows whip by in the twilit hour, striking their enemies that sneak and dart underfoot. 

Stacker wipes down the blade and sheathes it, trying to get as much gunk off as he can. "Hello." All three look up with wide brown eyes and uncurl, revealing an even smaller child, barely done being a baby. "Umm, your Uncle sent me." 

He pulls out the red envelope he's been given and the middle one lights up. "You're help?" 

"Yes. Your Shushu-" 

The smallest one piped up. "Shushu Liu!" 

"Mmm, he sent me to come get you. Who's this?" Stacker picks her up and rips his cloak to form a sling. 

"She said her name's Mako!" 

"Hu!" The middle one chides but sighs after Stacker tucks her against his chest but away from the blood. "I am Tang-Wei Cheung." 

"I'm Jin!" 

"Do you mind if I tie strips of cloth to differentiate you?" He asks politely. 

"Uh-uh." Jin chirrups. Stacker ties it on his left arm, the headband for Cheung and the right arm for Hu.

* * *

**Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb, as family is not what but _whom._**

* * *

The camp goes silent at the sight of all four of them covered in blood. All hell breaks loose when they see the triplets and Mako. 

Baths are brought in from the snow. The water goes in crystalline and comes out a very questionable gunk, to say the least. 

After their wounds are tended to and their clothing replaced, Mr. Tumnus sits down and explains in a hushed tone. "The White Witch's underlings have not given up hope that she may be returned to Narnia. They seek out the best way with her guidance but never have they _stolen_ Sons of Adam and a Daughter of Eve before..." 

"Stolen? You mean..." 

"Aye, through dark magic that she perfected many years ago." Mushroom grumbles. 

"Does that mean they'll be stolen again?" 

"No, young Prince, but it does mean that most of the White Witch's forces need to be whittled to very few." A great, rich voice has all the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Stacker turns slowly, shuffling the sleeping triplets and Mako behind his back even as Herc takes his left side in defense. 

An enormous Lion with a magnificent mane stands at the entrance of the tent, spring flowers blooming around his feet and dying, only to bloom again. 

"Aslan," Mr. Tumnus bows as does Mushroom and Rialys. 

Stacker doesn't move from his spot but nods respectfully. 

Aslan only chuckles at his posture and says, "No harm will come to the little ones you have taken under your wing, Minotaur-Slayer, not from me." Stacker relaxes minutely and shuffles aside as Aslan snuffles at the cuddle pile. "Three Sons of Adam and a Daughter of Eve accompanied by two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve. I believe this is a Narnia first. Eight from a Realm beyond, four descended from her Founders." 

"Four?" Herc blurts, hazel eyes wide. 

"Indeed. One of Frank's line," Here he nods at a shocked Tamsin, "one of Kirke's and two of Plummer." 

"Oh." Luna takes Tamsin's hand and presses a kiss to her cheek, opening her arms as Tamsin snuggles in. "So, why does Narnia need rulers?" 

Aslan hums thoughtfully as he curls around Cheung, Hu, Mako and Jin. "You mean why does it need Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve when it has those with free will?" 

"Yeah," Stacker reaches for Herc and Herc wordlessly offers his hand in support. 

"Would there not be a bias if one species ruled over another? Faun would favor faun, centaur would favor centaur and so on but never out of malice. Since humans are so rare in Narnia, they would take into account not only their own well being but that of all others. Narnia makes her own choices, with or without my help. If she didn't want you here, you would be quickly removed." Aslan murmurs as he glances down at the little ones. 

That explained the Triad members bouncing back. 

"If our mission is to eliminate most of the White Witch's allies... How long are we going to be here?" Stacker asks quietly. 

"As long as it takes, young Prince, but that is entirely up to the four of you." 

"What about the Weis?" He questions, feeling way too far out of his depth. "Mako?" 

"There are events yet to come, though I am bound not to say what, and you will need every ally you can find." Aslan informs him gravely.

* * *

_Ruling cannot be taught, only learned; respect offered but also earned._

* * *

Herc's the first to approach the fauns about diapers for Mako. 

"She's still little so she'll have, erm, accidents in her clothes. I'm trying to be prepared," he says a little hopelessly. 

The fauns quickly return with cloth patched at the back where a faunling's tail would go. They teach him how to tie it so that Mako can't remove it as well as a simple removal by one with clever fingers. 

The centaurs catch on and provide a proper sling for Stacker and Herc. Luna's gotten attached to the Wei triplets and the Weis are equally enamored of Tamsin, with her firey hair and wild stories. Mako won't sleep without Stacker near her so they've had to share a tent in order for her to rest. 

Somehow, they do battle with her strapped to their chests and the closer an enemy gets to Mako, the harder they fight. 

Herc gains a scar on his temple when he ducks to protect Mako and takes the knife slice meant for her. He gains another along his forearm and then another along his back when he turns to take a hag's claws. 

Stacker carries three marks like that, one cutting across his forehead, one cutting down his cheek and one matching Herc's from a Cyclops. 

When Mako's old enough, they leave her with Rialys and Mushroom. She starts learning English but Stacker insists on her Japanese too, begging Aslan to teach him so that Mako wouldn't lose her mothertongue. 

Herc learns it out of sheer self defense. 

Luna and Tamsin are learning Shanghai slang for the same reason, the triplets picking up more and more English. 

It's a mishmash of cultures and languages but Herc finds that he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

_In three years' time, did Aslan guide four rulers sublime._

* * *

**-Great Grass Fields, Near Cair Paravel, Narnia, April 24, 1048-**

When Mako turns four that April, Aslan declares them ready for ruling and they start for Cair Paravel. 

They've made partnerships with Talking Horses and Tamsin with a Daicorn who took a shine to her and Hu. 

"Aslan," Herc starts and the Great Lion waits with a patient blink of golden eyes. "Why are we being crowned now?" 

"All of you were ready after the Battle of Stone Table, Hercules, but did not believe yourselves so. You've taken up the responsibilities of true rulers and have not flinched from the burden placed upon you. I must go soon, as another place I made long ago also needs my help. I have chosen to crown you now and take my leave soon." Aslan replies, closing his eyes briefly in the cat's way of showing affection. 

"Really? Even though we're this young?" 

"Wisdom increases with age but it is not always so. You eight believe in Narnia with all your hearts, moreso than any ruler aside from Queen Lucy the Valiant, who has always believed from the moment she set foot here. That is high praise indeed, for Lucy's faith is only outshone by her bravery." comes the rejoinder. "The Pevensie Line were very young when they ruled Narnia as well. You are older and wiser in the ways of Men and War but no less of a ruler." 

"...Oh. But why...?" Herc struggles to explain that because he's the oldest, he doesn't feel like he's doing enough. 

"Why do you feel you are not doing enough, even though your efforts are equal to that of the High King Peter?" The amusement is clear. "Rest assured, young Prince, you are doing quite well."

* * *

_Remember this; in Narnia, family is found and praised, for in truth there is no standard to be raised._

* * *

**-Shortly before Coronation; Royal Guest Chambers, Cair Paravel, April 26, 1048-**

Herc's pacing up and down the length of the rush and carpet-covered hallway in gunmetal grey and bronze Narnian formalwear. On his last turn, his golden cape flaring out with his forceful spin, he sees Stacker. 

Stacker's resplendent in charcoal grey and deep blue, the long sword strapped to his waist. 

They are still at _War_ with the White Witch's forces after all. 

Herc takes his time in admiring his love, musing on how three short years saw Stacker rising in height and breadth but still keeping the same quick smile and the fond roll of his eyes. 

"Done admiring me yet, my Prince?" Stacker murmurs and oh, that's the best change, Herc thinks. 

Stacker's voice is smooth and wonderfully patient-sounding most of the time. He **can** roar with the best of them on the battlefield but Stacks prefers to be gentle outside of battle. 

Herc can't resist kissing Stacker and doesn't even try, arms wrapping around one another as they explore each other with the ease of familiarity. 

"I'll always admire you, Stacks." He laughs as they break away to hold hands and stride down the hall to see Luna fussing with Tamsin's archery glove. 

Tamsin just catches Luna's hand and kisses each finger, her palm and then kisses her way up Luna's arm with a cheeky grin. They kiss softly, chaste enough that they won't ruin the makeup the Fauns painted on. 

"Oi," Stacks says with an indignant tone, "that's my sister you're kissing." 

Luna flips him off briefly before breaking away with a delighted laugh. "We match!" 

"Huh? Oh yeah. Aslan suggested the colors and muttered something about events to come. He's leaving after today." Herc confesses after his initial confusion. 

"Yeah," Tamsin sighs, linking her fingers with Luna's less dominant hand. "He said he's been here long enough." 

"We got lucky," Stacks says, "the Pevensies only had a few months." 

"Mmm." Herc agrees. 

"Ready?" Luna asks. 

"As we ever will be, Moony." Stacker replies.

* * *

They stand in front of their respective chairs, Stacker in the center with Luna on his left, Herc on his right with Tamsin on Luna's left. 

"First we crown the High King," Aslan booms out with his great voice. "Stacker, please step forward." Stacker does so in a daze, though he shakes out of it quickly enough and crowns himself at Aslan's nod. "Long live High King Stacker the Magnificent!" 

"Long live High King Stacker!" Herc roars with the rest of them, pride welling up in him. 

"Luna, please step forward," Luna straightens her spine and walks forward. "I crown you High Queen Luna the Gentle, in honor of your equal status as twins. Long live High Queen Luna the Gentle!" 

"Long live High Queen Luna!" 

"Tamsin, please step forward." Tamsin shakes but Luna squeezes her hand briefly in support before the crown is placed before her. "I crown you Queen Tamsin the Valiant, beloved of High Queen Luna. Long live Queen Tamsin the Valiant!" 

"Long live Queen Tamsin!" 

"Hercules, please step forward." Herc swallows nervously but does so as well. "I crown you King Hercules the Just, beloved of High King Stacker. Long live King Hercules the Just!" 

"Long live King Hercules!" 

"Thus they have been crowned and long may they reign!"

* * *

_Remember this; happiness can be found in the darkest of places._

* * *

**-Aslan's Camp, Narnia, November 21, 1078-**

Herc pauses in tying his armor, clearing his throat to catch Stacker's attention. 

"Stacks?" The ring glows green, as it hasn't in nearly thirty-five years. 

His husband's brown eyes fill with understanding at his tone. "It's time?" 

"I'll gather the court." Herc grabbed their standard and waved the blue and charcoal grey flag in a specific pattern. "Narnians! To me!" 

Mako thundered up, her and her horse lathered in sweat. She dismounts and sends Philip away with a pat and a quiet word. "What is the matter?" 

"We're going home." He says and her eyes fill with tears. 

"Home? You mean-" Jin breathes out. 

"-back with Shushu Liu? But-" Hu swallows sharply as—

"home is here." Cheung finishes with his own tears. 

"We'll see each other again." Stacker reassures, tears tracking their way down his face. 

Luna and Tamsin are wiping away their own tears, Tamsin hugging all of them with a sob. 

Green lights up around all eight of them and when it fades, Narnia is left bereft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


	2. From Soldier to King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to the details, they're important later.

* * *

_Remember this; warned by some, there are events yet to come._

* * *

**-Training Ground 23, Australian Outback, December 19, 2001-**

Herc doesn't remember the rest of the training exercise with the Germans. He aches to be in Narnia but cannot go back. The ring sits on his chain, dull and green as it used to be before he got dropped into the country he loves like breathing. 

Herc throws himself into work and hanging out with his brother Scott, Stacker lingering in his heart. 

Thirty plus years weren't even close to long enough. 

Scott starts to notice after Herc takes to wearing the green ring like a wedding band. "What the hell happened to you, Herc? You've gone all quiet and it's driving me spare." 

"It's... It's fucking _impossible_ to tell." 

"Then fucking try, ya sook." 

"Ain't a damn sook, ya cunt, so rack off." Herc snarls back. 

Scott grabs his left hand and Herc has him flat on his back in less than two seconds, right hand raised like he's still got a longsword in it. He lets go as though Scott's on fire before heaving in a breath as he stalks off to sit on the porch. 

Scott waits for a while before he comes out, hands Herc a bottle of grog and murmurs, "Ye mind explain' where _that_ came from?" 

"I **told** you—" 

"I'm yer brother, Herc, so ye c'n at least _try_." Scott chides, grey eyes full of worry. 

"Alright, but you asked for it and ye can't say it's bungers until _after_ I'm finished." Herc says after a long pull on the bottle. 

"I reckon I c'n do that." 

"So, dunno if you remember that blue journal in a box of old shite..." 

Scott sits back when it's done, the grog long gone and Herc swiping at the tears on his face with a sniff. 

"This Stacker bloke, he means a lot to ya." 

"I was married to him for thirty years, knew him for thirty-three. He means the world to me." Herc chokes out wetly. "We traded emails. I'm hoping for one in the New Year, y'know, him cussing me out that I missed his birthday again."

* * *

**Not knowing time nor place, Narnia's monarchs handle the world with learned grace.**

* * *

**-Triad Compound; December 19, 2001-**

They return with a green flash and Stacker chokes on his sob because Tang-Wei Liu is there. 

He can't break in front of this man; years of diplomacy and harsh lessons have taught him that if nothing else. 

"Your nephews should be at home, Mr. Tang-Wei." His seventeen-year-old voice doesn't hold the same gravitas that he does at forty but he tries his best. "Your debrief?" 

Luna's spine straightens and she draws on every inch of her regal bearing as she says, "It'll have to wait. We're exhausted and in need of a rest. We'll be here at ten sharp. Do you agree?" 

Mr. Tang-Wei raises a brow at their mannerisms before Tamsin crosses her arms and pretends to tap a watch. "Either we leave and come back or you'll have to replace your guards. Which do you prefer?" 

"You may leave. I must check on my nephews." He waves them out and they all leave with a deceptively slow pace. The second they're free of the building, they run until they're in a back alley. 

Their bodies can't keep up with all of the training they've had in Narnia. 

".... Damn it.... Have to..." 

"Ugh... Agreed." He pants out. 

Luna groans softly, "... I miss..." 

"Yeah," Stacker breathes out, Herc making a void that Stacker can't bear to fill. 

He breaks down, sobbing into Luna's shoulder as Tamsin holds them both.

* * *

Stacker signs up at the local kwoon along with Luna and Tamsin. The kwoon's Shifu, a fifty-something with a gaze of steel, sees what no one else does or will attempt to understand; that they've been through something. 

She holds them back after the tenth lesson, citing posture and bad habits to the rest of her students. 

It is also a bald-faced _lie_.

"You three look like you've seen War and come out the other side." She says bluntly. "You look like I used to." 

"War, huh? You could say that." He huffs out as he selects a stick he knows he can wield with some precision while still having some weight to it. He moves through the knight training, his younger body still not tall enough yet to pull off some of the more difficult moves. "I don't suppose you'd believe that we were taken to another land to retrieve a Triad's nephews." 

She hums softly and then motions them to the back with her. She pulls aside a curtain to reveal a shattered jade pin with a golden sparrow on the handle in a display box. "And if I told you I was the one who wielded that in Ancient China...?" 

"We'd believe you." Luna says as Tamsin idly plucks at the loose bowstring with a frown. 

"Oh for the love of Aslan, can I _please_ fix this?" Tamsin pleads. 

"If you know how, you're welcome to it." Tamsin practically falls on the bow with glee, digging into her bag for wax and somehow has it in working order shortly thereafter. 

The creak after she's done drawing the string back is a familar one as both Stacker and Luna reach for weapons that are no longer there. "Yes, that would be a lifelong habit but the three of you are only seventeen. I'll give you a set of keys so you don't lose your skills. Tamsin, you'll have to find an archery range but I believe yours is the most easily accomodated. What were your weapons?" 

"Longsword for me," Stacker admits, "perfectly balanced with a lion-headed handle carved from bone." 

He doesn't mention the matching one that belongs to Herc. 

"Dual long daggers," Luna mimics the grip, "with the same sort of handles." 

"Mine was both," Shifu Sparrow says with a wistful sort of sigh. "Your secret is safe with me."

* * *

**So sounds the Horn, sending the monarchs home, though not to be forlorn.**

* * *

**-The Sea Beside Cair Paravel, Narnia, June 15, 2303-**

They splash into the sea and yelp as they do so, being soaked in warm water not really helping their winter uniforms. 

Herc's in full armor, cussing an Aussie blue-streak as he lifts his gun out of the water with a heavy sigh. 

Stacker slogs out of the water, waits for Herc to set the gun on a rock and then tackles him into the sand. "Herc!" 

"Stacker!" Herc kisses him out of sheer habit before he fumbles and then sits up. "Umm, I dunno if you remember that last email but-" 

"Engaged, yeah, I know. She's beautiful. You," Stacker chuckles, "are one lucky bastard." 

"But I'm _married_ to you here in Narnia. How does that even **work**?" Herc asks plaintively. 

"You're married in two different places to two different people. Besides, the UK's barking for a civil partnership if nothing else. Aussies aren't even close to that." Stacker snorts. "Which hell-hole they send you to this time?" 

"Iraq. Damn Americans." Herc murmurs before he tugs Stacker down for another kiss. "I married you here so I'm kissing you here." 

"Oi," The sound of Luna's voice is very similar to the one he used years ago in Cair Paravel. "that's my brother you're kissing." 

"Cair Paravel... It should be here." He murmurs. 

Luna looks up and blinks. "Umm, I think that _is_ Cair Paravel. I also think we're not the first to arrive." A blond head up on the ridge and the trail of clothes lends truth enough to Luna's theory. 

"Alright, let's go see who it is." Stacker orders gently and they all nod in agreement.

* * *

**Remember this; Narnia makes her own choices.**

* * *

Stacker draws his hand along the blackened walls and feels grief well up. They hadn't protected Narnia in her time of need. Only Aslan knew what lay beyond their old castle. 

His wanderings lead him to the Armoury, where their weapons have been locked away upon their request. As he was pulling out his longsword, instinct told him to duck. A red-fletched arrow in the cabinet door tells him he isn't alone. 

"Who are you?" 

"High King Stacker," he answers dryly. "Ruled for roughly thirty years and came thirty years after you lot left through the Wardrobe." 

"How—" Queen Susan then. 

Stacker takes advantage of her shock and straps his longsword on, gathering Herc's sword, Luna's daggers and Tamsin's yew bow staff out of years worth of War. "I'm a decendant of Polly Plummer, Professor Kirke's friend." 

"Descendant?" The dark-haired teenager prods as the rest of the Pevensie line come crashing through the door. 

"I come from the year 2002, mate. Polly was my Grandmum." Herc barrels into the room, his tactical gear only solidifying Stacker's claim. "My fellow ruler, King Hercules. Herc, meet the Pevensies." 

" _The_ Pevensies? The ones Mr. Tumnus praised to the high heavens an' back?" Herc questions absently as he kicks off his tac gear and belts his longsword around his hips. 

"One and the same. Aslan did say they were younger than us when they started ruling." Stacker agrees. "Have you seen Moony or Tams?" 

"Tams was scouting on what's left of the Northern Tower, I think. Moony was bemoaning the loss of her daggers, which you currently have in your hands." 

"Padfoot, I heard daggers! Hand them... over." 

"High Queen Luna, meet the other High King and his siblings." Stacker offers with a slight laugh as he hands over her weapons. "Tams is close by, right?" 

"Mmm, she's digging through her backpack for the right bowstring but she'll be here." Luna shrugs and offers her hand. The little girl shakes it first. "You must be Queen Lucy the Valiant." 

"I am! Why are you High Queen?" Bright blue eyes glance between the three of them before landing back on Luna. 

"Well, Stacker and I are twins. Aslan thought it unfair that Stacker be High King by himself when I was equally as capable." Luna says and Lucy nods in understanding. "Our other Queen would be in-" 

"Luna, Luna, there's so many trees and I'm pretty sure this is Cair Paravel but the trees are way too big for that—Oh. Umm, help?" Tamsin's eyes are alight with joy at being in Narnia again. 

"Queen Tamsin, meet High King-" 

"Peter. High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy Pevensie at your service." Peter introduces himself and his siblings. "When did you four rule Narnia?" 

"Some thirty years after you left and we spent thirty-four years here but only thirty-one of them ruling." Herc explains as he wraps an arm around Stacker's waist. "We were tasked with routing out the remainder of the White Witch's forces." 

The Pevensies share a quiet look that is painful to watch. 

"I think the better question is why are we here? Surely one set of rulers would be enough." Stacker offers into the awkward silence. 

"Oh! My Horn!" Susan mentions excitedly. "I couldn't find it in the Treasury and I must've lost during our Hunt of the White Stag." 

"I don't understand it but we could probably use the help," Edmund mentions. 

"Agreed." Herc responds before pulling at his tan T-shirt with a face. "Are there anymore Narnian clothes?" 

"Hmm? Oh yeah. There were a few more chests in the Treasury Room than we anticipated..."

* * *

**Eight go forth, brave and bold, help coming as fortold.**

* * *

Stacker finds himself next to Peter as they set up camp for the night. 

"Aslan really made you and Luna High Monarchs?" Peter asks as they retrieve water to boil for a stew Herc knows will fill them all up after Tamsin's done hunting. She can always tell which animal is Talking and which is not, a talent that Aslan says springs from being of Frank's line. 

"If it helps any, we took three years to assume the thrones. Her forces were incredibly invasive, and if I'm remembering right, I've got scars that'll show up shortly." He'd been seventeen the last time he'd gotten the scars so they were bound to show up come morning. "Those thirty years were spent waging War most of the time. Mr. Tumnus spoke often of you, though he missed Lucy most of all." 

"Oh." 

"I get the feeling that we're all here because Narnia made it so. She makes her own choices. How long has it been in your time?" 

"You mean during...? It's 1942 there. It's barely been a year since we've been out of Narnia but time..." Peter collects twigs as he goes, testing them with a quiet snap to see if they'll smoke. 

It's best to be cautious, after all. 

"It works differently here, yes." Stacker comments as he uses a thick branch to haul the water buckets. "I'd say anywhere from a hundred to five, the way the trees are, maybe even older. The walls were blackened." 

"Catapults." Peter solemnly adds. "Narnia is no longer as peaceful as it once was." 

"That is why we're here," Stacker voices his thoughts carefully, measuring his words. "Narnia is in grave danger and she thought more than one set would set things to rights. The Horn calls for help, no?" 

"It does but it's never done _this_ before." 

"There's a first time for everything." Stacker allows with a grunt as he sets up the folding camp gear Tamsin brought along. She thinks it's better to be over-prepared than under, especially with their trip to Narnia the year previously. Stacker's inclined to agree with her. "Tams should be back with stew meat shortly." 

"How does she know if they're Talking or not?" Lucy asks with worry. 

"She's got a gift; Tamsin knows whether or not a beast is a Talking Beast rather than a regular one. She's also an excellent shot, so it's as painless as she can make it." He answers patiently, reminded as he is of Mako and her endless questions. 

"Oh. That's a relief." She says brightly. "Did you meet Aslan?" 

"Mm-hmm. He spent three years with us, though he mentioned we were ready after our Battle at the Stone Table against the Hags and Hobgoblins." Stacker continues to answer as he dumps half of the water into the cooking pot. 

"One of the chests had a Japanese name." Edmund states, though the uptick marks it question rather than accusation. 

"Mako. One of our adopted children." He supplies as he peels the root vegetables he found and adds them to the pot. "The Hags stole her and a set of Chinese triplets from our time to bring back the White Witch with blood. They would've succeeded if we hadn't arrived. She was barely done being a baby and made for a fine, well-cultured daughter. She spoke her mothertongue, English and Dryadi, which would be really helpful to see if the trees are awake or in slumber." 

"Mako spent a lot of time with the trees," Herc absently supplies as he spits the coneys and lays them as close to the fire as he can get, folding tinfoil into a grease catcher for flavoring the stew. "Her and her brothers were constantly talking to the trees and their friends in the forests. We had to pull them out of the bramble for dinner, half the time." 

"Only half," Tamsin teases as she maintains her bow. "The other half was that the Dryads brought them to us fast asleep." 

"I thought there might be more to the story than we knew." Edmund draws his dagger to poke at the sizzling coneys and pulling back with a grumble to wipe the blade clean. 

"Always is," Herc concurs as he flips the food, "most just never think to ask."

* * *

_Eight in number the monarchs be to lend a hand, for in truth Narnia has chosen to be **their** land._

* * *

Tamsin's arrow thuds into the first warrior trying to drown the Red Dwarf. A second thuds into the other warrior, a red-fletch giving away the bow user. Herc and Edmund catch the Dwarf before he falls into the water. 

A quick cut of Lucy's small dagger and the rope is unwound. 

"You're the _help_ that the Horn summoned?! Bah!" 

"High King Peter and the Pevensie Line at your service." Peter manages stiffly, grey eyes cold enough to freeze the Dwarf in place. 

"High Monarchs Pentecost and the Founder's Line at your service." Stacker adds, the scars lending a particularly wicked look. "Who are **you** to question what help Narnia deems to grant you?" 

"Trumpkin of the Old Narnians. I was sent to see if the Horn had summoned any help at all or if we were alone in our uprising." comes the mumbled answer. 

"Uprising?" Tamsin asks as she removes hers and Susan's arrows from the floating bodies in quick succession. 

"Telmarines." When Herc motions that he continue, Trumpkin throws up his hands. "You've been gone for nearly 1500 years. We got invaded by Telmarines, who fear the sea and the forest but managed to drive all Narnians, the Witch's or not, into the forest. We've been fighting ever since." 

The way the Dwarf is eyeballing them shows that he has absolutely zero trust in them. 

Herc supposes they'll have to fix that, one fight at a time.

* * *

Trumpkin challenges Tamsin and Susan to an archery contest. Herc sits back and waits and bites his lip to keep from spoiling it. 

Out of all the people to challenge, the two Queens were not it; especially considering Susan's aim is unparalleled in all of Narnian history, even if she dislikes violence. Tamsin's skill to fire twice as many arrows in half the time it takes either contestant to pull back the bow is another issue entirely. 

She's got wicked upper body strength and has proved it on multiple occasions during their War. 

-Thud!- 

-Thud!- 

-ThudThudThwackThwack!-

"Robin Hood's got nothing on me!" Tamsin crows as she splits the other two arrows down the middle with her own, the four arrows making a demented smiley face. 

Trumpkin nearly faints when Tamsin lets Luna pull back her flowing sleeve to show off her toned muscles. 

Luna only laughs, ruffles Tamsin's chin-length mop of bright red hair and starts braiding the sides to pull them away from her face after a quick fingercomb. 

"You're children." 

"Children who used to rule Narnia," Stacker counters with a chuckle. "Herc's the most experienced out of all of us and yet you don't challenge him." 

"He's an adult Son of Adam. Why is he here at all?" 

"Narnia makes her own choices." Herc heaves himself up off the forest floor and stretches as lazily as possible. "I'm an adult, true, but I'm also the kid who believed a Founder's words. I'm the only one who still believes in Narnia and in Aslan out of my whole family. Faith is what you make of it and belief moreso, Trumpkin." 

"If you believe we are here to help, then we will gladly do so." Luna catches on, "If you do not, we'll help you out of our own choice, for Narnia's people and Narnia herself." 

The dwarf grumbles and twists his beard but doesn't object when Stacker and Herc have a go against the Pevensie boys. 

Edmund holds his own and Peter does admirably for someone a year out of practice.

* * *

_When all seems grey and a bust, choose to believe in faith, in love and in trust._

* * *

When Lucy says that she sees Aslan, two of the four Pevensie children disagree with her. Edmund makes a quiet point but all four of them see him as well. 

"I agree with Lucy. That _was_ Aslan. We're going the wrong way." Herc says as he heaves backwards on the old boat's oars. They'd found another boat aside from the one the Telmarines had, hidden as it was in an alcove near Cair Paravel. "If this _is_ the Rush River and it's been over a thousand years, this canyon is what happened." 

Lucy lights up at his remark, giggling when he grins at her delight. 

She reminds him a great deal of Mako-as-she-was; since she'd been a toddler stolen away, she didn't remember where she'd lived in Japan or how they could contact her. 

Herc knows that that's what hurts Stacker most aside from losing Herc himself. 

The elder Pevensies trade a glance at his confident tone. "Will you be heading back the way we came?" 

"Of course," Luna snorts, "Aslan doesn't show up unless he wants to and if he chose to make an appearance now, I'm going to listen." 

"You're just going blindly?" Peter's tone is jaded, too harsh for a boy of fifteen who's seen too much. 

"As I said, faith and belief are what you make of them." Herc hums as he strokes backwards once more. "If you want to go that way, no harm no foul." 

With that, they split from the Pevensie siblings and Trumpkin.

* * *

When Herc hugs Aslan, he blinks and then laughs. "You've grown again!" 

"It is you who has grown, Herc, and your co-rulers as well." Aslan chuckles. "Such is life, young King." 

"What about the Pevensies?" Luna asks, her fingers digging into the downy plush of Aslan's mane. "I'm worried about Lucy." 

"She has plenty of faith and wonder left to her. Rest assured, they'll find us here in the grove soon enough." comes the placating reply. 

"She reminds me of Mako." Stacker sighs as he pillows his chin on Herc's shoulder and strokes behind Aslan's ear. 

"Mm-hmm," Herc agrees with a faint hum. "Matches Mako's stubbornness to a T." 

"Mako is safe," Aslan says and all of their focus is immediately on him. "She will continue to be safe." 

"Those events..." Herc pauses and then forges on despite the churning in his gut. "Something bad is going to happen in the future but not in Narnia, isn't it?" 

"A wise King you are indeed to take what I am able to give and figure it out. Yes, an event you cannot prevent, only join or not, as is the choice of all sentient beings." Aslan bows his great head and there is such grief in his voice that Herc aches upon hearing it. "The four of you will have to make great and terrible decisions." 

"All of us?" Luna asks as she holds Tamsin close. 

"Yes. It will only show others what you have known all along; that you are leaders and you will do what is necessary and what is right as opposed to what is easily done or said. I can give you no more than that, save that Narnia is your home as much as your birthplace and you shall always have a place here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


	3. From Warrior to High Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not to sure about my Luna voice but I figured it was easier to post than to stare at it for a second longer. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

**Remember this; War is not glory, is not fame but pain and suffering within gilt frame.**

* * *

Luna blocks the path of the Hag, dagger catching the stave and thrusting the other directly into the Hag's chest. She hears the White Witch shriek as she's denied the blood of a Son of Adam thanks to Edmund's thin-lipped determination. 

Edmund staggers and sits to the side of the destroyed frame, hands shaking as he cradles his head in his hands. 

Luna knows that look; she's worn it too many times to count. 

She sits next to him, her knees touching his as Tamsin settles on his other side. 

Stacker takes the younger boy and High King Peter to the side and the winces they both give mean that Stacker's in full parenting mode. 

"Can I call you Ed?" 

"Sure," he says softly, still shaking. 

"You were the one to face her last time, yes?" Tamsin asks gently, softly. 

"Yes. How...?" Haunted brown eyes look up and find remembered pain in both Luna and Tamsin's own expressions. 

"We've been fighting nearly all of our lives to live the way we live, Ed. It's exhausting and it's painful but I'd rather live to fight another day and save someone else than to retreat, at least in my mind. Cowardice and compassion are to be balanced and you've done that quite admirably." Luna replies. 

"I... Thank you. It's hard to be a school boy again especially..." 

"Especially after you've ruled an entire kingdom and then some, hmm?" Luna teases lightly. "We try to fill our time but it is hard. It's better when you have those that understand right by your side. Confide in your sisters and your brother, Ed." 

"You do it with your brother," Edmund assesses and she nods in agreement. 

"And Tamsin, of course." She finishes as she reaches behind Edmund to squeeze Tamsin's fingers. 

"Oh. Oh! I... Is that a thing you can do there? In-In your time, I mean." Edmund turns bright pink but doesn't show disgust. 

"It's got it's own battles, Ed, and not all of them are fair or true." Tamsin admits. 

"Then I wish you all the luck I can, that one day you may be yourselves in peace." He says and the sincerity in his voice warms Luna to him far more than any false platitudes others have spouted over the years, both in Narnia and the world they come from.

* * *

The Second Battle of Beruna is, to say the least, unkind. 

"And who challenges me?" Miraz sneers. 

"High King Peter of the Pevensie Line," Edmund says calmly, the air around him charged with presence. 

"High King Stacker of the Founder's Line," Luna replies in as regal a tone as she can manage, which is quite a bit. "Both High Kings will accept your surrender, your choice to fight one or your choice to fight both. Caspian mentioned you were a formidable warrior." 

"Who issues these summons? Prince, Princess—" 

"King Edmund the Just." Edmund cut across, his expression never changing. 

"High Queen Luna the Gentle," Luna responds serenely, "though do not mistake our diplomacy for weakness." 

"Why would I do that?" Miraz questions. 

"The last to do so..." Luna hums, "Well, he didn't live to make the same mistake twice, as I'm sure you understand." 

"A threat, High Queen?" 

"A promise. Pentecosts do not forgive nor forget without probable cause." Unspoken but lingering; I have bloodied the daggers at my side and will do so again for Aslan and country. "Deliberate your choice, King Miraz. We shall take our leave." 

Miraz looks like he's been eating a lemon drop, sour and unbefitting a man of his stature and standing but Luna does not point it out.

* * *

Miraz, much to their surprise, does not accept either. 

He stands at the front of his Generals and says clearly, "I do not accept either High King as my challengers. I challenge High Queen Luna." 

"May I request the reason behind such a change?" Luna commands because she is not timid and to be timid in War is to be hurt or to surrender; neither of which she is willing to do. 

"A leader steps up and does not flinch. You are clever but not cruel. Rare it is to find a woman of stature and poise and grace but also fire and fiercely protective. I wish to face that." Miraz admits easily enough. 

His Queen is stone-faced beside him, clutching her child to her in a defense Luna has seen too many times in Tottenham, in the edges and where no one seeks to look. 

Luna does not pity her but turns, briefly from Miraz, to bow at the waist for his Queen. 

"What is the significance of a High Queen bowing to a regular Queen, High Queen Luna?" One of the Generals dares to ask. 

"A token of respect, for she walks a different path than I and deserves as much." Luna answers. 

"The battle is until first blood." 

"So be it." She agrees.

* * *

**In order to take on the wild, one must be willing to face the lioness; she does not have mercy nor is she mild.**

* * *

Luna lets Tamsin tie all of her accompanying padding before clasping the tooled breastplate and steel vambraces over it all. Tamsin reaches down, tearing off a strip of her vibrant bronze underdress and tying it to Luna's right arm. 

"A favor for my High Queen." Tamsin says, her eyes like the forest and her lips trembling. 

It's been years, so many and yet not enough, and yet Tamsin worries and cries. 

Luna worries just as much, she thinks wryly, even as she tears a strip off the bottom of her blue underdress. She ties it carefully to Tamsin's left arm, making sure the cloth bow ends are tucked away from catching on the waxed bowstring. 

"A favor for my Queen," Luna says and catches Tamsin's face in her hands. "A kiss for my wife." 

Luna kisses Tamsin as though she is a desert meeting an oasis, a mountain almost touching the stars for the height it reaches and the crash of an ocean against the beach for all the calm it brings. 

They kiss and part with a soft -snik- that repeats so easily that Luna nearly gets lost in Tamsin, the scent of fresh linen and beeswax now as much a part of her as oil and leather are for Luna. 

She pulls away reluctantly and restraps her daggers on her hips for easy access. 

Honor and battle waits for no one, not even two girls that love each other until the last breath of Narnian stars.

* * *

Miraz and Luna meet in the center of the stone arena, bowing once to each other, standing back-to-back and walking exactly ten paces each. 

Luna draws her daggers and flips one so that it's a guard as she changes her grip to be more effective against a longsword user. 

Miraz lunges for her and she parries with a baring of her teeth, whirling to strike him across the cheek. 

Blood wells up from the long cut and it's Luna's duel for _sure_ —

Miraz pulls a dirk of his own. 

Now it's Luna who lunges, her dagger striking his other cheek as she retreats briefly. "King Miraz, first blood is drawn!" 

"I did not say who's blood it was, High Queen. I meant yours." he reveals with a threatening smile. 

Miraz the Usurper indeed, Luna thinks to herself. 

She braces and blocks and parries, putting into practice Shifu Sparrow's teachings. 

Miraz presses forward, pushing her back and back and—Well, is Luna not a lioness? She must protect her pride and that means that Miraz must _go_ , though through death or defeat is up to the man himself. 

Luna snarls, releases her self-imposed control and remembers what it's like to be Luna the Fierce, the Red Saber; to be feared and worshipped in equal measure. 

The Usurper never stands a chance against the Red Saber, not when she's thinking of forest eyes and a bronze band of cloth that flutters, stains ruby. 

Luna becomes dodge, stab, strike, slice, parry—

Miraz becomes swing, grunt, whine, choked breath and then he stands in the arena. 

His body shakes and quivers and Luna is victorious. 

He's left bruises but hasn't managed to shed a single drop of Luna's own blood. 

"... Victor, High Queen Luna of Narnia!" 

"Hail, Luna the Fierce, our Red Saber!" Herc leads the cheer, "Hail, High Queen Luna the Gentle!" 

"Red Saber! Red Saber! Red Saber!" 

Luna's heart is pounding and she's heaving in her breaths when she snaps out her hand at the whistle of an arrow. 

The shattered shaft has red fletching, reminscent of Susan and Tamsin's arrows. 

It comes, not from the Narnians nor Aslan's How, but from the Telmarines. 

"It seems, King, that you have a traitor in your midst." Luna murmurs as she toes at the poorly painted fletching, glimmers of white still peeking through. 

"So it would seem, High Queen," Miraz pauses briefly before he adds as it if it's pulled from him, "A most worthy opponent you are, Your Majesty." 

He still considers them enemies then; the battle has only just begun.

* * *

**Remember this; Narnia fights when called upon and will do so when requested by her monarchs.**

* * *

Luna's riding on a Minotaur's shoulder, rushing for the river and the dammed up water. 

She spirals in order to stick her landing, her skirts flaring as she runs for the Telmarines. 

Caught as they are by two sides, most of the Telmarine army and their bridge are crushed by the rightfully angry River God. 

The River God kneels before Aslan and all eight of them briefly, turning to Luna in particular. ::High Queen Luna, a moment?:: 

"Certainly, River God." Luna agrees with a nod. She walks along the river until it bends and the God pauses in the stream bed. 

::I trust Aslan has spoken of events yet to come?:: 

"As much as he's able, yes. We're expected to be leaders then too, to show what we already know." Luna answers quietly. 

::Mmm. I have, shall we say, a counterpart... in your Realm. She's a small Goddess as of yet and she's salt where I am fresh but she may be of use to you. Her name is Crissy* and she's established on the Western border of the Northern landmass closest to the Pacific Ocean. I can tell you no more; I can only hope that I'm giving you information you can use.:: The River God is wringing his hands at this point. ::High Queen?:: 

Luna's digging for her notebook, crowing when she finds a stubby pencil to go with it. "Hold on, Crissy, Salt Water Goddess, established in Northern landmass on the West Coast near Pacific Ocean. Thank you. May I know your name?" 

::I am Beruna, Your Majesty, of the Fords. Thank you for listening.:: 

"Thank you for telling me what you can, Beruna." Luna sketches out a faint curtsey, indicating that they're equal in her eyes. Beruna gives a faint bow before he splashes back into his home.

* * *

**-Castle Courtyard, Narnia, September 24, 2303-**

Aslan spends equal time with all four of them and the Pevensies, though the words he speaks are different. 

"Luna, Tamsin," Aslan waits as they curl their fingers in his mane before he walks and talks at the same time. "You have proven yourselves many times over in Narnia. I know you face trials in your Realm and that I am, perhaps, bound more there than I am here. The strictures Sons of Adam have placed upon me are somewhat disappointing." 

"Aslan, what do you mean?" Luna asks as she resists the urge to scratch at her bandages under her riding dress. 

"Your Monarch..." 

"Oh!" Tamsin exclaims and turns to Luna, "He means our Church and through that... Umm, Aslan, are you saying—" 

Luna's eyes widen at the implications. "Can... we use a proxy?" 

"Egypt is nice this time of year." is what he says but his tone suggests that he's at his limits, though if they are of Earth's or of Narnia's, Luna's hard-pressed to guess. 

"Do I visit the Valley of Kings or the temple in Tell Basta?" she asks as she rubs her fingers hard against the bridge of where his forehead meets his muzzle. 

Aslan's eyes close as he rumbles softly, "Though both are wonderful, the temple might be your best bet. Fewer... guests, so to speak." 

"I see." 

"I'm sure you do."

* * *

The Pevensies go first through the portal of the tree, to show that it's safe. Lucy lingers, says, "If we meet again, I'm afraid we'll be rather old." 

"That's alright. Once a King or Queen of Narnia..." she pauses, smiles as Lucy brightens. 

"Always a King or Queen of Narnia." Lucy finishes with a laugh and dashes through the portal along with Ed.

* * *

**Though eight it once held, on Earth now only _five_ monarchs dwelled.**

* * *

**-Countryside Home, United Kingdom, June 18, 2002-**

"Is this it?" she taps her foot on the brake, the car rolling to a stop in front of a quaint little house in the countryside. 

"Looks like it, Moony," Stacker gestures with his hand, the motorcycle a recent addition to the Pentecost family courtesy of Mr. Tang-Wei via the triplets. 

The neat letters spell out a mostly familiar name; Pevensie-Rookworth. 

The door creaks open and a woman steps outside, her cane thumping against the winter garden's screened-in floor. 

"Who are you? What business do you have bothering—" Stacker removes his helmet and Luna rolls down the window all the way to reveal herself and Tamsin. Herc's sleeping in the back, his fiancé having taken all of this with a surprising amount of aplomb and a streak of practicality that Stacker loves about her. 

"Terribly sorry to bother you, ma'am, but you wouldn't happen to know a Susan Pevensie?" Stacker smoothly says after the woman stops abruptly.

The elderly woman sits down, her knuckles white even from this distance as her fingers grip the chair. She sits straighter and motions Stacker forward. Stacker turns the 'cycle off, dismounts while he snaps down the kickstand in a fluid movement that only comes with practice. 

He walks up to the gate, where she motions him closer. 

Luna doesn't hear the exchange that follows but Stacker's expression changes from neutral to surprise to sympathy to fondness all at once, it seems. 

When he flashes the Narnian handsign for forward, Luna rolls up the window, turns off the car, taps Herc on the knee and kisses Tamsin's fingers briefly before she gets out. 

All four of them file through the gate and up the stairs into the garden. 

"I thought you were pulling my leg, all those years ago, you know," she says and _oh_ —Susan's familiar brown eyes crinkle at the corners upon seeing thier expressions. "It seems that time makes fools of us all. How in the name of Aslan did you get here?" 

"Umm, a bit of military tracking through your Dad and phone-book sleuthing" Herc answers as he strokes Angela's hip. "Before ye ask, I married Angie here and Stacker in Narnia. We're... making it work." 

"I lived through the 60s. No need to tell me anything in detail." Susan drolly informs them as she motions that they sit. "Luna, if you would be a doll and help me make tea?" Luna accepts, knowing that Susan wants to talk, offering her elbow as balance. It's not until twin blue kettles are heating up does she start, however. "I don't know what you said to Ed all those years ago... but thank you." 

"I'm not sure what—" 

"That it was alright to be himself. He was, ah, dating a young gentleman for the better part of school before he... passed. We still keep in touch." Susan mentions quietly as she arranges food on a plate with gnarled fingers. Luna studies Susan for a moment, her memory of a vibrant fourteen-year-old superimposed over this woman and then it fades. "I'm only here because I was out, you know, on a date with Roland Fuller. If only my head hadn't been in the clouds..." 

"Then you couldn't have been here," Luna counters, "There are so few of us that sometimes it feels like Narnia was a really weird dream, sometimes." 

"Once a King or Queen of Narnia," Susan offers quietly. 

"Always a King or Queen of Narnia." Luna finishes, an opposite echo years apart.

* * *

Luna understands when Susan leaves to refill her tea, tears already spilling down her own cheeks. 

Tamsin's swiping at her own tears with the heel of her free hand, the other clutching Luna's as tightly as she can. Herc's in the middle of Angie and Stacker, brushing one set of tears away and then turning to the other as both of them wipe away his own. 

Luna squeaks when Tamsin hauls her into her lap, Luna's chin brushing unruly red hair as a result. When Tams buries her face against Luna's shoulder, she understands and curls her arms around her girlfriend. 

Grief is a terrible and funny thing, though Luna suspects that Susan has grieved for a great many years and does it still. 

"It warms me to know that you four will remember us long after we're gone. A living legacy is one I never expected." Susan says even as a car pulls up outside. "That'll be my husband." 

"Did you join your names or...?" Tamsin asks, 

"We combined them, yes. It was a scandal back in the day but it was allowed because I had no family remaining at that point. Hadrian thought it a shame to put the name to rest when I carried it still. He's well aware of Narnia and all that comes with it, you four included though he doubted your words of the future as much as I did, I'm afraid." 

"Susan, I didn't know we had—Fellow royalty, I'm assuming?" Hadrian asks wryly, the salt-n-pepper a familiar look from watching Mum brush it into a high bun. 

Luna's lips curl up in a wry smile as he takes in how they sit with Susan, as though she's one of them instead of a woman nearly sixty years their senior. 

"You are staying?" The way she words it reminds them of Tamsin's Grandmum, all polite but with a strand of titanium woven through it. Luna thinks it's a Mum thing the world over, really, and doesn't protest. 

"Can we call Mum? Let her know?" Stacker asks, flashing a smile when Susan blinks and seems to remember they're still young enough to take their GSCEs. 

"If course, of course," she waves him off, greeting her husband with a peck on the lips. 

Stacker goes outside for a brief moment and that's when Hadrian takes them in. "When Susan told me of you four, I expected a great presence." 

"You married royalty. You should know that it's a mantle, a shield, not a state of being. Divine right, we have it not." Luna offers with a shrug. "Power offered and wielded with care, not for the sake of it." 

Hadrian's laughter leaves him with a huff of surprise. "If only all monarchs thought that way." 

"We did and set up a council of seven to replace us should we vanish. According to the Telmarines, this council gave them consistent trouble for a great many years before the last members fell in battle." Tamsin adds in as she supports Luna. 

"There it is," Hadrian chuckles, "that right there has me convinced." 

"The ol' royalty question?" Stacker asks. "We _can_ pull it off, if you'd like to see." 

It takes them all a moment but, the second all four of them stand up straight with their hands resting close to where their weapons used to be, it strikes. 

"Oh." Angie utters quietly. Hadrian agrees with a nod and Susan seems to lose years as she straightens in response. 

Luna deflates easily but it's more than enough proof. "Aslan warned us of a coming event here though he's bound by our laws and that of Narnia. All I know is that a minor salt water Goddess in California is going to be of use in the future." 

"He said that we're pivotal figures in the future, though not how far or in how many years." Tamsin picks it up and then Herc sighs. 

"We're the leaders of it, to fight back whatever it is." Herc admits with a shuffle as he takes Stacker's hand and swings it slowly, trying to put it together in a way that gets around what rules are in place here. "This event's enough that it'll be massive and that even Aslan has a bad feeling. That Narnia is still attempting to help us with suggestions and allies that we can find here, it isn't going to be peaceful. That we need to rely on what magic is left here is even more concerning." 

"Aslan rarely speaks as frankly as he has with us, trying to get us prepared for what follows. We need to step up our training and the rest of us have to get into the military. Two pilots and an officer maybe, to give us enough of a chance. How do you prepare for the unknown?" Stacker finally says, turning to Susan and the other two still in the room with them. 

"I've got friends in MI-5 and in the government," Hadrian offers. "Do you have anything remotely close to a timeline?" 

"We'll be adults, so at least ten years. It's not enough to go on but maybe just a mention of a possible event. I don't know what more we can do." Luna growls out of frustration, her hand closing around air as she paces and then huffs in thanks when Tamsin hands her a balisong. "The only other thing is that Aslan can be contacted via the temple in Tel Basta. Something about his shape, the connection and the fact that less people worship the goddess of that temple." 

"Egypt, hmm? We could go, I think, and ask as much as we can, I suppose. You three have a lot to do and we're in a place that can be used." Susan offers, linking her fingers with her husband's. 

"Would you really?" Luna breathes out, her hope caught painfully between her next breath and the beat of her heart. 

"Well, us Narnians have to stick together, don't we?" Susan inquires lightly. 

"We'll have to nail down a plan after you gather as much information as you can," Stacker says, his High King days seeming to linger in his tone. 

"Planning a battle ten years in advance isn't the oddest thing you five have had to do then." Hadrian says as though it's a fact. 

He's not really all that wrong though, Luna thinks, nor will it be the last battle they have to take on if Aslan's warning is true.

* * *

_A lioness is part of a pride, not selfish nor meek, though she lives to love and protect the weak._

* * *

Tamsin watches Luna's rise, the way she's done once already, but this time it's not quite so urgent, so harried as Narnia once was. 

Luna flourishes in a leadership position, takes up the mantle as though she were born to it, same as Stacker, who shines equally as bright; her best friend and her love are so very in tune that Tamsin cannot help but feel proud that she knows them so well. 

She lives up to her name and attracts a fair enough crowd, her personal moonlight spilling out of her eyes and through her smile. Nearly everyone likes Luna but there are those... There are those who say terrible things about Tasmin's love and it is not Stacker they find waiting for them after they go to celebrate. 

It is Tamsin who greets them in the alley, the spymaster and the Valiant, fire in her eyes with her tongue as the sharpest weapon she chooses to wield. Her words fly much as her arrows used to, striking with pinpoint accuracy and the coldest fury she can muster. 

It's when she returns to the pub, in which Luna turns to her with the brightest smile of all, that Tamsin feels she's done right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


End file.
